Elevation
by isthisrubble
Summary: He was Q-Branch's second in command, but as of today, Winston Holmes loses his name. Part Two of The Ascension of Winston Holmes.


**Thanks to oakleaf and tazigo for betaing it. Enjoy!**

* * *

R, as was his custom, arrived at work earlier than the rest of Q Branch. He was surprised, then, to find M's Chief of Staff waiting for him at R's own desk. At first glance, he looked as polished as ever, but R thought he could see rings under Tanner's eyes. It made R wary immediately. Tanner wasn't someone to ever look tired - even without sleeping for days.

'Tanner?'

'M needs to see you,' he said.

M's secretary, Villiers, let them into her office without speaking. His eyes were slightly bloodshot, and the muscles in his neck betrayed how tense - or perhaps exhausted - he was under the calm exterior. There was definitely something wrong. Maybe he was paranoid, but R felt as if he'd interrupted a funeral.

M stood up as he entered. She was dressed all in black. 'Mr Holmes.'

R blinked. Hardly anyone at MI6 knew his name, and he'd been R for over a year. Why would M, a stickler for protocol, suddenly start using it now?

He realised he was staring and cleared his throat uncomfortably. 'You wanted to see me, Ma'am?'

'Yes. Sit down.' She gestured to the empty seat as Tanner closed the door behind them. There was a moment of silence. Then M, in her usual brisk tone, said, 'the Quartermaster died last night. His heart failed in his sleep.'

_Oh no._

She gave him a sympathetic look, though it vanished almost immediately. 'You, as R, will…' She continued to talk, no doubt saying that he would make a brilliant Q and that she looked forward to his future work, but all R could think of was the old Quartermaster, who'd taken him under his wing, who'd taught him all sorts of things his engineering professors never had, who'd listened to his advice about modernising the branch, who'd promoted him above older, more experienced agents…

The old Quartermaster had been the grandfather he'd never had, and R tried desperately to bury his sadness. He had work to do, after all.

* * *

Tanner, perhaps feeling sorry for him, announced the news to the rest of Q Branch. R (No! Not anymore!) Q called a meeting with the leaders of the various departments. He wondered what they were thinking as they listened to him give orders. Their faces were perfectly calm and blank, but he could feel the proverbial daggers at the back of his neck.

He was the youngest ever Q, the youngest head of branch MI6 had ever had. He was sure there were many who thought they would make a better Q, people who were older and had been working for MI6 for longer. But the old Q had promoted him to his second-in-command. He'd had confidence in him, and Q had no intention of letting him down.

He decided to make Craig Richards, the head of Chemical Research, his new R. He tried to tell himself that he'd made the decision purely on talent, but that would be a lie. The new R was a reliable, perfectly normal middle-aged man, without much ambition. An unambitious second-in-command would take his advice and cause no trouble. Q was confident that, if any of his subordinates had trouble taking orders from such a young Q, they would listen to R.

Villiers came past his office to tell him that, due to his increased security status, his belongings were being moved to a more secure flat. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. He was sure that Mycroft would know about the change by nightfall, but then, it was impossible to hide things from Mycroft.

* * *

Q arrived at his new flat early that evening, on Tanner's orders. The MI6 men had unpacked most of his things, but a few more personal items, including his hand-built PC, were still in boxes on the living room floor.

He sorted through the mail, throwing out the usual junk. He'd need to get another "No Junk Mail" sign. The last thing in the pile was a card marked "Something for You" from the Royal Mail, stating that he hadn't been home when his delivery arrived, so he should pick it up at the local delivery office.

He hadn't ordered anything, and panicked. Who was sending him a parcel? Why? How had they found out his new address so quickly?

Stop. Deep breaths.

There was still time, so he hurriedly threw on his coat again and caught a cab to the post office. The woman at the desk fetched the parcel and smiled at him. 'Not expecting anything? It's not your birthday soon, is it dear? It's probably a gift.'

Q turned the parcel gingerly and looked at the return address. It was written in familiar, jagged handwriting.

_S. Holmes, 221B Baker St, London_

Sherlock. Of course. But Sherlock didn't usually do gifts... Unless Mycroft had actually told him what Q's new job was.

Q went home and opened the parcel curiously. Under the paper he found a box and a note.

_Congratulations, little brother._

_SH_

Smiling, Q set the note aside and finished unwrapping the box. It was unmarked, so he opened it warily, wondering if Sherlock had sent him a body part as some sort of elaborate joke.

It was a mug. He lifted it out. It had Q10 on one side, and the Scrabble letter distribution on the other. He couldn't help but laugh, remembering one of the few happy childhood memories he had, sitting at home on a rainy day with his mother and brothers. They'd played Scrabble for four hours that day.

He placed it with pride on the servery and started unpacking his boxes.

* * *

Three weeks was a long time in international espionage. It was long enough to prevent a war, erase a terrorist organisation, underestimate yourself (once), overestimate yourself (three times, much to Q's chagrin), save a school, break eight codes, unravel twelve encryption programmes and fall asleep on the job (only _once_, couldn't Moneypenny stop teasing him about it?). It was certainly long enough to prove wrong the naysayers and impress everyone else.

Three weeks was also how long it was before Tanner was once again waiting for Q when he arrived at work in the new Headquarters.

'You've got a 00 agent to outfit. They're sending him after the list.'

'Oh good.' He hadn't yet met any of the 00s as their new Quartermaster. 'Who is it?'

'007. He's back.'

* * *

**This is the second in a four or five part series I'm calling _The Ascension of Winston Holmes_. They'll be posted out of order, I'm afraid, so I'll put up the right order on my profile.**

**PS: I now own that mug!**

**PPS: Comments are better than the series 3 teaser.**


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